MATCHLESS BRAVERY OF MRS. BENS
Her Own Story of How She Saw Her Husband's Party All Die One by One of
Scurvy and Cold and How She Helped to Nurse and Bury Them.
My husband believed that gold could be found on the Mackenzie river or
on some of the islands in the Artic Ocean. He planned an extensive prospecting
voyage, and without trouble interested a number of strong young men whom
he met at Port Townsend. He had maps of the district he intended to visit
and had received information of several rich Mackenzie-river bars from
an old Hudson Bay trapper. Captain Bens commenced to work on the steam-schooner
Elk No. 1 at Port Townsend early in '98, having come from Bay City, Mich.,
en route for St. Michael. He was accompanied by James Hutton and Frank
Calder. My husband had considerable money with him, the savings of years
of hard and dangerous toil as a master of barges and schooners on the Great
Lakes. He superintended the work of construction and soon a staunch craft
was launched. A small engine and propelling machinery were put in and a
schooner rig fitted up. The Elk was a peculiar-looking craft and attracted
much attention on the Seattle water front, where the vessel was tied up
for some time. She was just large enough to carry two years' provisions
for a party of seventeen. Late in May the schooner sailed away. Calling
at St. Michael, we heard that rich discoveries had been made on the various
rivers running into Kotzebue sound. A rush to that unknown country was
under way at the time, and we decided to abandon our expedition to the
Artic and try our luck in Kotzebue. Anchoring in the sound, four of the
crew were picked by lot to stay with the schooner. The remaining thirteen,
under direction of Captain Bens and Captain Smith, started up the Seliwick
river. We visited several alleged diggings, but like every one else lured
to the district, found nothing but colors. We spent several months prospecting
over Kotzebue country. Owing to inexperience, we had not chosen the right
provisions, and as no fresh meat or vegetables could be secured, scurvy
finally made its appearance. Dr. Vetter did his best to check the disease,
but as he was compelled to work without medicine his task was a hard one.
Several of the party died of the dread disease and were buried near the
camp on the Seliwick. Captain Bens had about made up his mind to return
to the schooner and finish the winter on board, when the news came across
the divide from the headwaters of the Koyukuk that gold had been found
there. We should have realized that we were in no condition to make the
difficult trip of 300 miles, but the desire for gold overrode judgement,
and not one wanted to turn back. Those sick with scurvy were willing to
go on, in the hope of getting relief in the new digging. No one dreamed
of the fate that was in store for them, or that the trip we were about
to take would be the last for all but one - and that one a woman. We had
been assured that game was abundant all the way, so did not fear starvation;
and although we had no dogs we believed that we could pull sleds over the
soft snow with sufficient supplies for the trip. All unnecessary camp luggage
was abandoned and the start up the Seliwick river commenced. The men were
weaker than they thought and made but poor progress up the stream. Several
graves were left behind before the Tegragawick river was reached. Scurvy
was rapidly thinning our ranks. The unfortunate might have recovered had
they remained in camp and taken care of themselves, but on the trail this
was impossible. I did what I could to nurse them, but it was little enough
that I could do. The ascent of the Tegragawick river was even more difficult.
The trail was one of graves - rude Artic graves barely under the surface
of the snow. A few stones and a log or two would be rolled on top to prevent
wild beasts from devouring the dead. A smooth slab of wood with the name
penciled on was the only grave-stone possible. As the men in the party
became fewer the bodies were barely put under the snow, for it was necessary
to husband strength, and grave-digging was hard work. When the head of
the Tegragawick was reached it became necessary to cross from the watershed
of the Kotsebue to that of the Koyukuk. To do this it was necessary to
pass over two low divides. While on this divide an Artic blizzard swooped
down upon us and completed the work of death that scurvy, starvation and
exposure had begun. The remaining five men were frozen in camp or on the
trail, and when the last divide was crossed only my husband and myself
were alive. My poor husband was a very sick man by this time. He had done
his best to bring his party through and had worked early and late. I made
a camp on the snow-covered banks of the Husskuakalna river and tried to
fix things as comfortably as possible for him. He was badly frozen and
evidences of scurvy were plain. His face was haggard and sunken but a full
beard hid this somewhat. He realized that this was his last camp, but did
his best to cheer me up and to persuade me to push on alone to the Koyukuk,
where the miners would assist me out of the country; but I would not leave
him. For nearly twelve weeks I hovered over him constantly. On the morning
of May 10th he breathed a farewell to me, and I was alone in my grief,
with no human voice to speak one word of comfort. Only a woman can realize
my terrible position. I knew not how many miles I might be from human aid.
I marveled why and how I had been spared while those twelve men perished.
I was too weak to dig my husband's grave; yet the thought of his body lying
in that wretched tent, a prey to wild beasts, filled me with anguish. To
stay there was to die or become crazed. I knew that the river would lead
me to Koyukuk, but the distance was uncertain. I resolved to go on. Once
can died but once, it is said; yet it seemed to me that I had already died
a hundred deaths. Slowly I "mushed" along the trail. The sun shone bright
after the terrible blizzard, but it made the trail soft and hard to travel.
An occasional print of moose or caribou crossed the river and gave the
only evidence of life in the barren land of snow and ice. Mile after mile
I counted until nine separated me from the camp of death. It was almost
night and I believed my hours were numbered. I wondered how long it would
take me to die. I had begun to look forward to death with something akin
to joy. I wondered if our bodies would ever be found. reaching a place
slightly protected from the night wind I was about to lie down for a sleep
that would know no waking. Then out of the terrible stillness sounded the
bark of a dog. Its suddenness frightened me. Looking closer into the dusk
ahead I saw smoke rising from the head of a gully. I cried out in joy and
surprise. A gruff "hello" came answering back. Help had come at last! Several
prospectors had been up the river from the Koyukuk and gone into camp for
the night after a hard day's travel. They were Charles Grant of Maine and
Messrs. Hansen and Johnson of Seattle. They came to me at once and took
me to their camp. The first warm food I had eaten in several days was given
me. I told them of my husband's body lying uncovered at the head of the
creek. The promised to bury it, and I fell asleep utterly exhausted. The
next morning two of the miners went back and buried Captain Bens' body.
They cut some fir saplings which they placed in the ground, and on it built
a bed of fir boughs. On this they placed a robe, on which the remains were
laid, covering them over with another robe and more fir boughs. They carved
a square and compass on one end of the crude bier and on the other they
carved a Maltese cross, the emblem of the Knights Templar, and his initials,
"H.W.B.". This was done so the remains could be identified if found. The
brought back what camp effects we had carried across the summit. That afternoon
we started for Peavy, and I was well taken care of until the ;river broke.
Then I left Peavy in a row boat in charge of a Koyukuk prospector who was
to bring me out. After floating a short distance down the river we were
overtaken by the steam scow William B. Allison. Captain Allen gladly took
me on board and brought me to Nulato, where I was transferred to one of
the North American Transportation and Trading Company's boats. On this
I arrived at St. Michael. Here Mrs. J. J. Healy at once interested herself
in me, and her goodness was that of a ministering angel. A subscription
was taken up to bring me to Seattle. Those of the Elk No. a crew who perished,
besides Captain Bens, were Dr. Vetter, Stratton, Pa.; James Hutton, Bay
City, Mich.,; Joe Reinhart, Milwaukee, Wis.; Frank Calder, Bay City, Mich.;
Captain Charles Smith, Port Haddock, Wash.; John Stonehouse, Coupeville,
Wash.; Earl Plummer, Port Townsend, Wash.; Duncan McCull, Chicago, Ill.;
Peter Johnson, sailor, San Francisco, and two sailors whose names I don't
recall. I have since learned that the four men left on the schooner have
all died from scurvy. The Weekly Examiner, San Francisco August 3, 1899,
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